Bottleneck

by Ed James

  He shut his eyes, hoping it was a dream and he still had hours of sleep left. A forlorn hope.

  His mind tugged him back to the exchange with Methven. While he finally had the position he'd long since coveted - even if only as Acting DS - he was on shaky ground. It could be taken away at any point.

  Was Methven alluding to him being busted back to DC? Were that to happen, he tried to console himself with the notion he would surely have been briefed by now.

  There was other pressure. He needed to bring in more money so they could buy a bigger house. Sharon was behind that and he couldn't begrudge her it. She'd lived in this flat for eight years, while he'd been here closer to eight weeks. The novelty of living on the Royal Mile had long disappeared for her.

  He looked at her, surprised that turning the light on hadn't made her grumble in complaint. Her side of the bed was empty.

  He looked back at the cat. "Are you man marking me, boy?"

  The cat didn't answer, for once.

  Cullen realised how deeply in love he was with Sharon since they had split up for a few days in October. He'd been an idiot over certain things back then, but she'd forgiven him and they'd worked on rebuilding trust, culminating in him moving into her flat. Their flat.

  It surprised him how well he was adjusting to it. There had been incidents with dirty pants on the bathroom floor and the toilet lid being left up, but she wasn't a saint either - he saw to the fridge, washing and cooking when he had time.

  Cullen got out of bed and started twenty press-ups. He was increasingly conscious of his growing belly thanks to years of strong lager and takeaways. He'd started running again and exercising properly. He didn't want to resort to fad dieting like his old man.

  He strode into the kitchen, feeling his shoulders tighten, determined to have a proper breakfast for once rather than a bacon roll with Buxton in the canteen.

  Sharon was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, absent-mindedly stirring a mug of tea, the radio playing at low volume.

  Cullen leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Morning."

  She looked back, her eyes bloodshot. "Morning."

  Cullen felt a jolt of worry. "You okay?" he said, resting a caring hand on her arm.

  "I'm not well. A stinking cold." She sniffed.

  "We were supposed to be driving up to my parents' tonight," said Cullen.

  "Yeah, typical," said Sharon. "First hint at some time off and my body shuts down."

  Cullen put bread in the toaster, adjusting the dial up from Sharon's usual setting, which required two goes before it even slightly browned.

  "Methven is trying to rattle me," said Sharon.

  "This again." Cullen glanced at the kettle, but decided coffee at the station would be preferable, or maybe he could pick something up en route. "I know he's a dick, but are you sure he's playing you?"

  Sharon nodded and took a big glug of tea. "I think so. It's the sort of thing he would do."

  Cullen sat down on the stool next to her, continually glancing over to watch for the slow slide of the toast as it finished. "He never strikes me as being that conniving."

  "That's the sort you've got to watch," said Sharon. "He's on a power trip just now and he doesn't want anybody to steal his glory."

  Cullen spotted the machine pop up. He got a plate out of the dishwasher, checking it was clean, and shovelled crunchy peanut butter on the toast. He took a bite, causing Sharon to turn up her nose.

  "I hate that stuff," she said.

  "It's good for you. Lots of protein."

  "It's not good in the quantity you eat it." Sharon took another sip of tea. "All that stuff last night. Cancelling your leave. That's just to get at me."

  "I'll do some digging about Methven today. See if there's anything in it."

  "Okay." Sharon stared blankly at the counter.

  Cullen took his plate and sat down next to her. "Hey. This isn't the Sharon I know and love."

  She snuggled in close. "I don't feel like that Sharon."

  Cullen kissed the top of her head and stroked her back. "You'll be fine."

  "What if I'm not?" she said, her voice muffled.

  "There are plenty of other things going on just now," said Cullen. "There are task forces being set up. It might do you good to get some other experience. You've been in CID for ages, maybe you need to reconnect with other areas of the force."

  "True," she said, before sitting upright and draining her mug.

  The radio changed track, the DJ's mid-Atlantic drawl announcing Expect Delays' new single Bottleneck, which he pronounced Boddleneck.

  "That's all I need," said Cullen, as the song kicked in, half-spoken lyrics confusing the neck of a bottle with a girl's neck and a bottleneck guitar. "It's so contrived."

  "You'd much rather listen to techno, I suppose."

  "You don't have to say it like that. And yes, I would."

  Sharon pushed her teacup away. "How are you finding having Chantal working for you?"

  "About as much fun as Caldwell. She reckons I'm on a power trip."

  "And are you?"

  "Hardly."

  "Wonder how Caldwell's doing," said Sharon, absently.

  Cullen finished his toast and headed for the shower, wondering whether to do more press-ups.

  CHAPTER 8

  DI Alison Cargill led the briefing in Leith Walk station's CID suite, fifteen officers sitting around in various stages of interest and wakefulness.

  "So, in conclusion," said Cullen, "I've packaged up the domestic from yesterday and handed it to the Procurator Fiscal's office."

  "Good work, Sergeant," said Cargill, smiling but with no discernible warmth. "Do you want to update us on the Niddry Street body?"

  She was looking at Methven. He shrugged then gestured to Cullen. "Sergeant Cullen is probably best placed."

  "There are music rehearsal rooms on Niddry Street," said Cullen. "One of the bands found a passageway that leads onto an old street, which has been built over. They had a dare going on, one of them took a torch and went for a wander. They found a body propped against a wall. This band is not under suspicion at present."

  He glanced at Methven - his eyes were closed and he nodded along.

  "There has only been a somewhat limited investigation so far," said Cullen. "We had no ID by the time I left the crime scene last night."

  Methven picked up the thread. "We still have no confirmed ID. That's true. In fact, we have no potential leads either. The only options we've got are to wait for the post mortem to come through and for ADS Cullen's team to do some good, old-fashioned legwork."

  He folded his arms. "Dr Deeley has given us an estimated date of death of approximately eighteen months ago, based on the state of decay and the conditions. There may be something in the Missing Persons reports around that time."

  "And there might not," said Cargill, "but it's a good avenue to investigate. I'd still like to see if this is connected to the band who found the body."

  Cullen nodded. "Will do. We've got them reporting to the station this morning to give statements. We don't believe there's anything on them."

  "Certainly not the younger two," said Chantal. "The drummer is a fair amount older."

  "Keep us updated," said Cargill.

  "In terms of team," said Cullen, "I believe I've been allocated DC Jain and ADC Buxton, is that correct?"

  "For now," said Cargill.

  Cullen nodded. "Thanks."

  "Good work," said Cargill. Her eyes swept around the room. "Is there anything else?" Nothing. "Dismissed." She collected her notepad and hurried out of the room, checking her watch.

  Cullen tried to corner Chantal and Buxton before they left, but Methven intercepted him. "Is DS McNeill not in today?"

  "It's her day off," said Cullen. "If you recall, I was supposed to be getting away early today as well, but you cancelled it."

  "Operational matters take precedence, Sergeant," said Methven, before marching off in Cargill's slipstream.


  Cullen looked around the room. Chantal and Buxton had both escaped. "Bloody hell," he said, slumping on a desk chair.

  It was going to be a long day.

  CHAPTER 9

  Buxton stood up and stretched. "You fuck off, eh?"

  Cullen looked over. "It doesn't work with your accent. But yes, I'll have a coffee." He got his wallet out of his coat pocket. "Where's Chantal?"

  Buxton shrugged as he looked around the office. "No idea."

  They walked to the canteen in silence. They'd been hard at it for over three hours since Cullen had eventually found them. He held the door open for Buxton and they joined the end of the queue, which snaked back almost to the door.

  "They really need to fix this," said Cullen. "Takes forever to get served."

  "Still, it means I can give you an update," said Buxton. "Never know when Crystal might pounce."

  Cullen laughed. "I can't believe how many unresolved Missing Persons we've got."

  "Tell me about it," said Buxton. "The stuff I've been through, most of them seem to be kids reported missing by their parents, but they turn up and nobody bothers to tell us. I've closed six cases already this morning."

  Cullen nodded. "That still leaves, what, thirty?"

  "Give or take," said Buxton. "I'm still not convinced there aren't more in the four hundred odd we've put to one side."

  "We'll see if this gives us anything," said Cullen. He frowned - he could hear a baby screaming. He looked but couldn't see anything. "I bloody hate people bringing their kids in."

  Buxton laughed. "You're a ray of sunshine today."

  Cullen almost smiled. "You used to be in a band, right?"

  Buxton nodded. "I did, yeah. Six years ago now. Had one of them rooms on Niddry Street, too. They were like gold dust but somehow we spawned it. We were there four times a week at the start but then things fell apart and we gave it all up. In the end, it was just a storage space for our amps and drum kit."

  "I heard that Expect Delays single on the radio this morning," said Cullen.

  "Oh aye," said Buxton. "I supported them once, back in the day. Bunch of wankers."

  "They were wankers before they were famous?" said Cullen.

  Buxton snorted. "Complete pricks. We played with them just before they released their first single. The way they were talking, it was like the Beatles releasing Abbey Road or something."

  They reached the front of the queue and ordered.

  "No roll this morning?" said Barbara, Cullen's favourite canteen worker.

  "Trying to be a bit healthier," said Cullen.

  "What's wrong with my food?"

  "Nothing," said Cullen, "just trying to avoid bacon and mayonnaise."

  Barbara shook her head. "That'll not do."

  Cullen thought she didn't seem herself. "You okay?"

  "It's these cuts. I'm worried I'm going to lose my job. There was a bit in the paper this morning about getting rid of non-police resources. That means me."

  Cullen smiled, trying to raise her spirits. "You're hardly going to be replaced, are you?" He thumbed at Buxton. "Can't see Simon here making such good coffee."

  Buxton snorted. "I worked as a barista, you cheeky fucker."

  Barbara pointed at him. "I've warned you lot before about your language."

  "Sorry," said Buxton, head bowed.

  Barbara scowled. "At least the worst of your lot has gone. Mouth like a toilet, that one."

  "I'm sure you'll be fine," said Cullen.

  "I heard someone say they're thinking of shutting this place down," said Barbara. "They've got to save millions in Edinburgh."

  "You'll be okay," said Cullen.

  "It's my girls I worry about," said Barbara, as she handed them their coffees.

  They scanned the room, looking for a table.

  "Now I see why there's always a massive queue," said Buxton, "she just will not shut up."

  "Just because she told you off for your potty mouth," said Cullen, as they sat down. "You okay about all the restructuring stuff?"

  Buxton avoided Cullen's gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "You sure?"

  "Not really, no. I think I've got the record for the longest Acting DC tenure in Lothian & Borders' history. At least you know you're in SCD."

  Police Scotland would be separated into East, West and North, but CID resource would be split into local response teams and the new Specialised Crime Division. Most likely, Cullen would fall into the Edinburgh Major Investigation Team.

  Cullen sat back and blew on his coffee. "I don't know what grade I'll be."

  "You know you'll be there, though," said Buxton. "That's something I don't have."

  "Do you want me to speak to Cargill or Turnbull?" said Cullen.

  "I don't know," said Buxton. His eyes darted up just as a strong hand grabbed Cullen's shoulder.

  "Sergeant."

  Cullen spun around. He smiled when he saw who it was. DS Bill Lamb. Cullen worked with him on a couple of cases out in East Lothian.

  "How you doing?" said Cullen, getting up to shake hands.

  "I'm well," said Lamb. "Very well."

  Cullen reached over to stroke Lamb's top lip. "What's happened to the moustache?"

  Lamb flinched. "I'd grown out of it."

  "It wasn't at the other half's insistence?" said Cullen.

  "Might have a bit to do with it."

  Cullen gestured at Buxton. "Have you guys met?"

  "Not had the pleasure," said Lamb, offering his hand. "Bill Lamb."

  "No, we have," said Buxton. "The Mandy Gibson case last year."

  Lamb nodded slowly. "That's right. You're a detective now, though. You were in uniform then, right?"

  "Acting DC," said Buxton.

  "You'll get there eventually, son," said Lamb.

  Buxton didn't seem to take any consolation from it.

  "So, what brings you here, Bill?" said Cullen.

  "I had a meeting with Jim Turnbull."

  Cullen's interest was piqued. "Oh aye, what about?"

  "Nothing to do with you," said Lamb, tapping his nose. "Angela came in with me. She was showing young Jamie off."

  Cullen looked around but couldn't see her. DC Angela Caldwell had worked both with and for him as the squad's Acting DC before Buxton. She'd just had a baby - the pregnancy a surprise as she put her missed periods down to stress from a painful divorce.

  "Right," said Cullen. "That'll be where Chantal got to." He finally spotted them, sitting in bollocking corner. "How's fatherhood?"

  "Good," said Lamb, exhaling deeply. "We've been lucky with wee Jamie. He sleeps like a log and not one with a chainsaw in it, either."

  "I seem to recall having conversations with both of you about you never having kids," said Cullen.

  Lamb shrugged. "Times change, I suppose."

  "Going to make an honest woman of Angela?" said Cullen.

  Lamb laughed. "That's the other thing she's showing off. A giant rock of an engagement ring. We're getting hitched next summer, make sure the wee man is a bit more settled by then."

  "And her divorce is sorted, I suppose?" said Cullen.

  "Finally came through," said Lamb. "No point in changing her name now."

  "She's going to take your name, then?" said Cullen.

  "Aye," said Lamb. "How's your other half doing? We'll need to get the pair of you to the wedding, of course."

  "If she'll want me there," said Cullen, recalling how frosty things had grown between them.

  "Water under the bridge now," said Lamb. "Anyway, how's it going with Sharon?"

  "Good," said Cullen. "We moved in together in January. Looking at buying a place."

  "No marriage plans yourself?" said Lamb.

  "She doesn't want it," said Cullen.

  "And you?"

  "No comment," said Cullen. "Other than that, she's fine. Stressed about this promotion she's going for."

  "Isn't everyone?" said Lamb. "Big changes afoot."

  "Tell me about it," said Cul
len.

  "Grab your coffees, come over and see my wee boy," said Lamb.

  Cullen replaced the lid on his cup and followed Lamb and Buxton.

  Caldwell got to her feet, grabbing Cullen in a bear hug.

  Lamb took her seat while Buxton hovered uncomfortably not far from Chantal, who was holding up the baby and blowing on him, making him gurgle.

  "You're looking well, Scott," said Caldwell.

  Cullen shrugged. "I don't feel it."

  "Six months as an Acting DS is good," said Caldwell. "Maybe you'll stop moaning about not getting promotions."

  "We'll see if they let me keep it," said Cullen.

  "The glass is always half empty with you," said Caldwell.

  "Never mind that," said Cullen. "How's the baby?"

  "Good," said Caldwell. "I love him to tiny wee bits. When I found out I was pregnant I doubted I'd ever be maternal. Now, I just can't stop thinking about him. It's crazy."

  "You are coming back, right?" said Cullen.

  "Aye, of course," said Caldwell. "Couldn't afford to be a lady of leisure, much as I'd like to be." She looked at the baby. "I'm sure Sharon will be the same."

  "Mm," said Cullen.

  "Have I touched a nerve?" said Caldwell.

  "Don't worry about it," said Cullen, avoiding eye contact.

  Caldwell looked around. "Haven't seen her. Thought she'd be here."

  "She's at home," said Cullen. "Got a stinking cold. Besides, it was supposed to be her day off. You could head up to the flat if you wanted?"

  "Maybe," said Caldwell. "Do you want to hold him?"

  "I'm not a big fan of kids," said Cullen.

  "Really?"

  "Really," said Cullen. "I don't want to be a dad."

  "No need to be a dick about it," said Chantal, handing the baby to Buxton.

  "I'm not being a dick," said Cullen, "I just don't want them thrust in my face, that's all."

  "You're being a dick, Scott," said Chantal.

  "Right, that's it. Back to work." Cullen smiled at Caldwell. "Nice seeing you." He nodded at Lamb. "Catch you later, Bill."

  Lamb gave a mock salute and took the now screaming baby from Buxton.

  CHAPTER 10

  An hour later, they had exhausted the likely victims in the MisPer file. They sat at their desks, with Cullen leading a progress update.